So, you may know by now that I live in Rockport….but, I’m not FROM Rockport.
I lived in Middleton until I was about 12 and then moved to Hamilton. Both of my parents are from Gloucester and I moved there right after college graduation. After meeting my husband I moved to Rockport, his hometown, back in 2000. So, looong story short, I’ve lived in Rockport for 14 years now, but again…I’m not FROM Rockport.
That being said, I can usually hold my own. After 14 years I’ve finally learned the names of most streets (kind of), I know not to take a left down Broadway from South Street on Sundays because it is closed during church services, I know that if you want a cranberry walnut muffin to die for you go to Helmut’s, if the kids are jonesing for a shaved ice you go to Hula Moon, and if you’re planning on a long day at one of the local beaches you’d better plan around the tide…because some of our favorite beaches all but disappear at high tide.
I’ve learned a lot, I’ve met tons of truly kind and fantastic people, and…probably because of my local hero loving young boys…I can greet the harbor masters and police officers by name.
A couple of years ago I wrote how a bunch of the community came together to help celebrate Thatcher’s 5th birthday. It was incredibly heart warming and perfect and to this day I tear up at how special that day was for him.
All of that having been said, there is one part of Rockport that, I have to admit, still intimidates me a bit.
The Dump. Well, see right there…that’s part of the problem. It is not actually called the Dump. It is the Transfer Station….and rightfully so. Back in Middleton we went to the Dump (in our giant wood paneled station wagon with no carseats)…and I remember it clearly, but it was before recycling, and it was truly just piles of trash. I am certain that it is no longer like that now. In Hamilton, we put our trash out for pick up. No trips to the dump necessary.
Now, in Rockport, my husband typically does the, as I call them, “dump runs.” He doesn’t necessarily appreciate the fact that I call them that and has explained that, in no uncertain terms, if I feel that it is simply a dump, then I am not necessarily worthy of making the trips. Awww, shucks.
So, for YEARS, I had never actually taken a trip to the transfer station.
My husband had come home forever with random “treasures” from the swap shop….much to my dismay. The swap shop alone began to spark my interest. Not because I was necessarily in love with anything that he brought home, but because I started to grow intrigued by the vision of the “Land of Misfit Toys” that he loved to visit.
Don’t tell my husband, but I actually found myself having “dump run” envy. It didn’t help that my boys would also come home singing the praises of the dump. I started to feel a little left out. The only girl in the house and all….and the only one not worthy of the weekly pilgrimage to the mysterious place at the end of the driveway on Nugent Stretch. “What is down there?”, I started to wonder.
So, finally, I was allowed to tag along….
And I’ve been meaning to do a blog post about it ever since.
This place is not for the faint of heart and it is truly a fine oiled machine. This place is the Disney World of recyclers, the Tour de France of the obsessive compulsive, and the Super Bowl of “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” While you’re not going to find it on a list of tourist destinations, it is truly a sight to behold. I’m also a bit smitten that it has an area for “Scrap Fishing Gear” as that kind of screams “Good job making a life for yourself in this quaint little town by the sea” if you ask me.
So, if like me, you have never had the opportunity to witness the wonder of the transfer station….here’s a peek inside. Behold.
Good Morning Gloucester 
A lot of us have stories about what our mates have chosen to bring into the house from the Swap Shop but when my husband brought home a “gently used” toilet seat that topped all. It came in the front door and went out the back without so much as a pause.
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I have mixed feelings about the Rockport dump…. after my great uncle Stan Burkhard died, his daughter took some items to the Swap Shop including a beautiful set of solid brass andirons that Stan and my grandfather had custom made at a local foundry in New York back in the twenties….. luckily I have the other set…. she said that she didn’t even have them out of the car before someone snatched them up!! No kidding! (Fortunately, she did not take Stan’s Thieme painting to the Swap Shop too!)
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Anyone remember when the lady brought an old box the belonged to her late husband to the swap shop, not knowing there was a loaded .357 Magnum inside? lol
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Funny and informative Nichole–as always!
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Thanks for the post. I’ve explored almost every corner of Cape Ann over the past 35 years, including a couple I wish I hadn’t. But I’ve never been to the “dump”. I have never visited a community where people are individually responsible for getting rid of refuse. (Speaking only of North America here) I wonder how the Rockport Method came to exist, and why it continues in spite of all the convenient ways of dealing with trash. I hadn’t considered the recycling (as in taking other people’s stuff) aspects of this system, but just maybe it keeps the amount going to a landfill to a minimum. In our town, we have a large object collection twice a year. I put all kinds of junk on the curb, and before the trash collectors come, it is gone. All in all, though, I’d rather put my three bins (trash, recycling, and yard waste) at the curb and let those marvelous robotic trucks take it away.
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This guy creeps me out for some reason. Other than that, I love the dump. Our dining room chairs, tons of stuff from the Rockport dump. I called it the transfer station and a local told me no, it’s the dump.
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One of the best dumps around. I like the Kilimanjaro of Compost best. I take my leaves and garden detritus there and then I take away all the beautiful loam I can carry.
I get a kick out of the Swap Shop Vultures too, but I am grateful that someone wants the things I no longer need.
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Oh yea, the dump! I AM from Rockport and the dump has many memories for me! Going with my Dad when yes, it was just a huge pile of garbage and trash. It’s quite a place now, and in my opinion, needs a traffic cop up there! It’s crazy with cars darting back and forth, all different directions!
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I love the dump – the swap shop, the book barn, the recycling that goes on. Rockport is always in the top 10 towns for recycling in Massachusetts I think it may be because you actually see first hand all the garbage and waste – that and your neighbors are watching, you don’t want to be known as the person who throws cans in the garbage containers. I prefer going to the dump to putting out my trash in bins especially in the summer when we can go to the dump multiple times in the week to get rid of stinky trash. Have lobsters on Friday night and get rid of the stinky mess first thing Saturday morning.
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Love your posts! I am from Rockport. I am even lucky enough to live in the house my parents moved to with my 5 siblings when I was 9 months old! The old dump was indeed just that. The workers burnt the trash, including plastics that turned into a gooey mess but most people back then had their own incinerators and we burned our burnable trash right at the edge of our driveways. We also had a garbage man, Mr. Lawler, who collected the food based garbage for his pigs. I remember the transition from dump to transfer station and I missed watching the flames but not the smoke that would choke your lungs if the wind was wrong. We have always had a rich history of waste not want not here on Cape Ann. Our firemen were volunteers and held down regular jobs as they do today but Gloucester had a paid force and they used to take in broken toys and wagons and bikes and restore them to usuble states and then give them to kids in need. Now only new toys get collected for distribution. Our litiginous society is to blame for that so I applaud the swap shop for providing a place for people to pass along usable items, even if a little TLC is needed. I am happy you have finally made it to the dump and you no doubt saw the sign on the way out saying come back soon!
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